Viraag
by LadyCookieCupcake
Summary: 'How was it possible to feel this tired over someone? How was it possible to feel this broken' / or the one where communication fails and relationship problems are caused because of it. [T for minor swearing)


**Title** : Viraag

 **Author** : LadyCookieCupcake

 **Pairing(s)/Character(s)** : Peter Parker/Unnamed Narrator. Aunt May Parker

 **Warnings** : Minor swearing.

 **Spoilers** : None

 **Rating** : Gen

 **Word Count** : 2,502

 **Summary** : _How was it possible to feel this tired over someone? How was it possible to feel this_ _ **broken? /**_ or the one where communication fails and relationship problems are caused because of it.

 **Author's Note:** I think I _may_ have made the narrator a tad bit angry than I'd intended but I was trying to write in the mind of someone who's watching someone they love and trust slowly drift away from them, without even knowing why or what to do to stop it. So I thought it would be understandable if the narrator of this story was angry and hurt. I dunno though. Hopefully, it's still all right. Self-beta'd. Unnamed female point of view(can be read as either the reader, an OC of yours or just an unnamed character).

 **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction – none of this ever happened and will never happen (though I can dream). No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Viraag _(Hindi - India) /vi-rag -_

 _'the emotional pain felt due to being away from the one you love.'_

The door opened on the second knock after a woman's voice shouted from behind it to 'hold on a second'.

She tried not to let her disappointment show when she smiled, Aunt May appearing in front of her in all her apron-wearing glory. She smiled back, hers a more genuinely-happy one and beckoned her in.

"I didn't know you were coming, otherwise I would have ordered dinner instead of making it." Aunt May jokes and she laughs along with her, trying not to look as if she was sneaking glances towards a certain boy's room. She failed.

"Go on," Aunt May says with that smile of hers that spoke of nostalgic days, of remembering herself in the young woman's position. She sincerely hoped that was not the case. "He's his room and I haven't managed to get him out for the whole day; a project's due or _something._ Maybe you can get him out."

She nods, unsure, and walks to the door. She hesitates for a split second, wondering if she should knock or if it'd be pointless; this was, after all, her boyfriend but maybe a warning would be nice. Knock and then walk in. Catch him off guard. Don't give him a chance to lie again.

Deciding to do exactly that, she knocks once, sharply, and open the door. She quickly slips inside and look around.

He wasn't there. Of course, he wasn't.

Was he ever?

She sat down on his bed, felt the soft fabric of his duvet. The young woman leans down, resting a body that felt too weary all of a sudden, smelling the smell that reminded her of him.

How was it possible to feel this tired over someone? How was it possible to feel this _broken?_

She knew Peter wasn't even aware of it - he wasn't cruel enough to know about it and still do it. He was just oblivious and maybe that was worse, maybe the fact that he was too distracted to notice he was pushing her away made her heart break faster and harder than it would were he to be as cruel.

The young woman's eyes slip close as she feels that familiar sting in them, and she buries her face further into the pillows. Maybe if she buried herself deep enough, the hurt will just disappear.

She hears that voice - familiar, gentle - call her name, and freezes. Oh. So, he was back. Finally. She hadn't even hear the door open, though.

"Honey, what's wrong?" A hand followed the question and she tenses. She couldn't help it; the comfort that hand once brought her no longer existed. That touch only served to remind her of all the touches he never seemed willing to give to her anymore.

She slowly sat up and shrugged his hand off, wiping her eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed he was only wearing a shirt but she didn't take it in. She didn't care. Suddenly, she didn't care if he was naked, if he saw her tears, if he wondered. Let him. It won't make any difference.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Peter asked, concern - actual _fucking_ concern - in his voice, and that was the final straw. How dare- how fucking _dare_ he act like he gives a shit after avoiding her for months? Without no explanation? Without no warning? Just there one second, gone the next?

She spun around on him and glared, eyes narrowed with the fire she's had burning in her since the beginning of all of this. Peter startled, eyes widening in his bewilderment, and he looked as if he's going to back up. He doesn't. It annoys her more, oddly enough.

"Really?" She hisses, "Really? You're just going to sit there and act like nothing's happened?" Her voice raises with each word until she's shrieking it but she doesn't care. So what if the neighbours hear? So what if Aunt May hears? All she wants is to make sure _Peter_ hears. He's the only one that matters, that's _ever_ mattered.

Peter stares with confusion and - dare she say - a little hurt.

Why is _he_ hurt?

It's not as if she matters anymore.

"W-what are you talking about? What have I done?" He questions, a crease in-between his eyebrows beginning to form, and she stands, began to pace and folded her arms over her chest - anything to placate the urge to scream more. It wouldn't do anything but annoy her further, and maybe even hurt her throat.

She had so much to say, so many thoughts she wanted to get rid of, to make him aware of it but now… now her mind is just empty, devoid of everything, _numb_ almost.

Now that she finally had him here, listening, all she could do was pace.

She huffed and stopped, closing her eyes. She took in a couple of deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before letting go.

 _Sit down, stop pacing, and just calm down._

Pacing won't accomplish anything, as won't becoming emotional. It doesn't matter if she's had the emotions building up in her since the beginning of all of this. She needs to talk to him like an adult, like a proper grown up, and find out why he's been avoiding her.

And if he still refuses to answer, still continues to avoid her, well, then she gives up. She breaks it off, be the first one to do so before he can, before he breaks her heart further.

Once her heart had calmed its rapid pounding, she sat in his desk chair and looked to the floor. She spares one glance to Peter before quickly looking away. She could see the confusion, the almost skittish look as if he was getting ready to bolt were she to shout again, and sure, maybe she did deserve that - she _had_ just erupted on him suddenly - but was he really that, well, oblivious to not know why she was angry?

She sighed quietly and leaned back onto the chair, still straight back, arms still folded but if you were going to talk, she at least wanted to be as comfortable as possible - or at least not slouching.

"Honey?" Peter asks, quietly, as if afraid his voice alone will make her snap again. She continues to look at the floor, blinking to rid herself of the blur in her eyes. She won't cry, she _won't._

"I'm pissed," And wasn't _that_ an understatement? "I'm pissed and I'm annoyed and I'm- I'm scared. I'm scared you're slipping away, I'm scared of losing you and of not knowing why. I won't know if it's something I've done or you've done, or if it's just something I can't control. I'm annoyed you won't tell me and I'm pissed...at everything."

That wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough; there weren't enough words, enough understanding to _really_ describe how she felt about this whole goddamn situation but she'd said something. She let her thoughts take over, and though it may not have made sense, she finally released something. It was the beginning, at least.

She waited for a response, and after a couple of minutes of silence, she looked up to see Peter's reaction. She was kind of afraid to, to see what he was thinking, to see if maybe he didn't care as much as she thought, to see if maybe he hadn't even listened.

His face was doing something weird. She couldn't really describe it, had she needed too. It was a frown but too soft, a grimace but too happy. It looked sheepish and guilty and hurt all in one and it did nothing good for the butterflies in her belly nor the bile slowly climbing her throat.

She wasn't sure what to make of it.

Peter looked away, down at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the universe, and his hands began to fiddle for a second or two before he realised and stopped them.

"Peter?" She asked but trailed off. What could she say? She wasn't even sure what was going on anymore.

There was a moment of silence before Peter suddenly stood and walked over to his closet. He hesitated and she hesitated too, still wondering what was going on, wondering if this was the moment he broke up with her, finally told her how he felt. Did she really want to hear it? After all of this, did she really want to hear how much he _didn't_ like her?

"I wasn't sure how to go about this, or if I even should. This isn't easy." Peter begins before trailing off, the hesitance clearer the more he spoke. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if unsure what to do.

She sat silently, unsure herself.

Finally, Peter decided to just open the door. He disappeared inside and she could hear the sounds of hangers clinking about as they were shifted this way and that. When Peter seemed to find what he was looking for, he came back out and over to her.

He placed the pile of clothing into her hands and walked back to his bed. He avoided looking at her.

Raising an eyebrow, she looked down and took in the red and blue. What exactly was it thought? Well, obviously, it was some sort of clothing but _what?_

 _I mean, it looks vaguely familiar,_ she thought, _but I don't know what it could be._

She decided to unfold it and did just that, holding it out by the shoulders to properly see it- and she saw something that just confused her further.

It was...Spider-Man's costume?

As in the masked vigilante known for helping with crimes the 'big shot' heroes never have time with? The 'friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man'? The arachnid superhero? _That_ arachnid superhero? Well, he was the only arachnid superhero she knew of but _still,_ it was a _superhero's_ outfit.

And Peter had it?

How? Why? Did he know Spider-Man? How, if so? And what did it have to do with you? Was Spider-Man the reason Peter had been avoiding you? But why-?

A dawning realisation practically slapped her in the face with how sudden the thought came.

The only way that would matter was if Peter was- but no, he wouldn't- would he? But why-?

She looked back up to see Peter avoiding her gaze and she took a deep breath.

All right, so Peter _was_ Spider-Man...right? Is that what this all meant?

"Peter-," She paused and then decided a different route, "So, you're Spider-Man?"

Peter looked up, startled. As if he was surprised she said such a thing.

He gulped before nodding.

"And you didn't tell me because?" She trailed off, hoping he would explain and it would be a good explanation.

Peter seemed to hesitate before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face.

"It's a dangerous job, (Y/N), and not just for me. I put everyone in danger by simply _knowing_ me. If anyone found out what you were to me-," He cut himself off, seemingly startled at his own words, and then a blush formed on his cheeks.

She stared wide-eyed at the admission, unsure what to do or say. Of course, she knew he loved her; he was freakin' dating her, after all. Peter wasn't the type of guy to just date for the fun of it, especially not if he wasn't sure he loved that person. But to hear _that,_ that she meant enough to him that the thought of harm or death coming to her is heartbreaking… it's one thing to know you mean something to someone, to actually _hear_ them admit it is something else.

The silence continued on, neither one of them sure of what to say.

She sighed and decided she needed to do _something_ if she wanted anything to progress.

 _And besides, I need to apologise_ , she reminded herself. She needed to apologise for assuming, for getting angry, for not just simply asking what was going on.

She stood from the desk chair and moved to sit beside him, hesitating for only a second before actually doing so. Peter turned to her with his usual puppy-confused look and she couldn't help but smile. He was adorable...and kind and so very sweet. How could she have gotten angry at him? How could she have thought the worst?

Of course, she wouldn't have thought of Spider-Man but still…

"I want to apologise, for earlier, for getting angry and annoyed, for shouting." She said. She could feel the embarrassment build up at the earlier memory, and couldn't bare looking at Peter. She looked down to her lap where her folded hands lay, resisting the urge to twiddle her thumbs.

"I just- didn't know what was going on. I should've asked. Of course, I hadn't expected _that_ ." She joked, looking up at the red-and-blue suit.

Peter chuckled and she looked over. He looked a little sheepish, a little guilty.

"Yeah, it's not something anyone _would_ expect." He answered, "I'm glad I've told you now though. I'm glad you're taking this well."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"How did you expect me to take this?"

He shrugged, looking away. Panicky, probably; upset even.

She wasn't though. Maybe she should've been, maybe she should have felt at least a little bit of panic. But really, she was just relieved, relieved it wasn't her, relieved it wasn't something that couldn't be fixed.

"Well, I'm glad you told me too. Now I know, I can prepare. You won't have to worry, I'll be able to protect myself." She said with determination, and although Peter looked as if he wanted to argue, he smiled and nodded because he knew, as much as she did, she was strong. He didn't need to worry, though he probably would. Peter Parker was a worrywart through and through; he always had been and always would be.

The young woman leaned in and he turned to give her better access. Her lips met in a soft but eager kiss, and she felt how it once had been, the relationship slowly mending itself with that one, simple kiss.

The door suddenly opened and they both instinctively shot backwards, away from each other, to see Aunt May leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed and a smile on her face.

She didn't give away anything and the younger woman wasn't sure if she had heard, but she didn't look unhappy or angry. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

"C'mon, I've ordered takeaway and it's getting cold." She said simply before walking away, leaving the door open. She sighed in relief. She wasn't angry. No matter whether she had heard or not, she wasn't angry.

Peter stood and took her hand, leading her out of his room and to the dining table. Though the night hadn't begun great, she was glad it was settled. She finally knew the truth and that was going to bring the two of them a lot closer, she was sure.

She smiled.


End file.
